The Fall of Arjuna
Se-gun, Seo Rin, and Kim Seong-hui were holed up in the basement. Arjuna’s underground storeroom was packed with weapons, and the entrance shutter was a ten-centimeter-thick alloy door. Ordinary explosives simply could not breach it.
“Of course, if they punched a hole straight through the ceiling with mortars or bombs, that would be a different story.”
Han Se-gun muttered the complaint while stripping Detonating Cord and loading the Beast. Missing one arm made no difference; his telekinesis handled the work without trouble. Seo Rin gripped a pistol as well, ready for anyone who forced their way in, but a sudden worry made him speak up.
“What if they pump gas in through the ventilation ducts?”
“There are no vents here. The police station is right next door to Arjuna—close enough to trip over—so we don’t even have to hold out until the oxygen runs dry.”
Kim Seong-hui answered with a look of quiet regret. After a mess like this, Arjuna would face a full investigation. Once the authorities got a look at the defensive systems and the stockpiled ammunition, she would end up on the wanted list right beside Han Se-gun.
“Ahh. So Arjuna’s finished after all.”
“It’s a miracle the place lasted this long. Nothing new about it.”
Han Se-gun shot back curtly and checked the door. Outside, people were making a racket. The ones who had tried to drill through gave up when the bit refused to bite and started packing explosives instead.
KWAANG!
A blast roared beyond the door. The ceiling shook, grit rained down, and the lights flickered, but the door itself stayed intact.
“Whoa. They’re going all out.”
Seo Rin stared in disbelief. Trying to blast their way in with bombs? Were these people insane? In the middle of Seoul, no less?
“It’s useless. That’s hundred-millimeter alloy plate. Just slapping charges on it and setting them off won’t crack it.”
Then a strange chill suddenly radiated from the door. A bomb had just gone off—why cold now? Startled, Se-gun drew his pistol and raised the ballistic shield.
“Se-gun, how would you break this door?”
Kim Seong-hui asked, staying close to his side. He tilted his head, then answered.
“First I’d cut directional grooves with a welding torch so the blast focuses, pack plastic explosive into the grooves, and detonate. That multiplies the force several times over. It still wouldn’t open in one go, but you repeat the same process in the same groove until it finally gives.”
“Exactly.”
Kim Seong-hui’s face tightened with unease. She clearly expected the enemy to do just that. Se-gun, however, thought otherwise. When professionals blew thick concrete they drilled holes, packed the charges inside, and shattered the material from within. Internal detonation put every joule of energy into destruction; nothing stayed whole. This door, though, laughed at ordinary drills, and even a torch would take forever.
“It’s not like they’re packing an acetylene torch the size of a cigarette lighter. They didn’t bring one, so we’re fine.”
Han Se-gun assessed the situation coldly. The attackers had numbers, but they seemed clueless about Arjuna’s interior. They probably never knew a door like this existed and therefore never thought to haul welding gear. Men willing to drag mortars into the city were already certain of victory; a bulky, useless torch would have been dead weight.
Then a weird sound came from the door.
“What?”
BZZZT!
Electric sparks leapt from the metal. Moments later the ten-centimeter alloy door blew inward. Exactly as Se-gun had described, the enemy had used successive shaped charges to tear the plate apart. The first man through was a hawk-nosed Englishman with narrowed eyes, gauntlets on his hands and a combat hammer in his grip.
Se-gun fired the Beast straight at the opening. The man’s form vanished and the round sliced empty air. An illusion. Of course—no one with a brain would plant himself in a choke point and beg for bullets.
Whoosh!
Grenades poured down at the same instant. They were underground, surrounded by ammunition. Grenades landing here meant nowhere to run. Yet Han Se-gun only snorted, thrust the ballistic shield forward, and charged.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
He batted the grenades back outside with practiced ease. Any that his hands or feet could not reach he swatted with telekinesis. The motion was so fast and precise that the men who had thrown them simply stared, dumbfounded, as the explosives spat back out like chips from a slot machine.
KWA-AAANG!
The grenades detonated in a single rolling blast that shredded everyone who had crowded onto the first floor. When Se-gun burst out, Arjuna’s ground level was a cratered wasteland.
Grenades are timed for roughly five seconds after the pin is pulled; airburst is the only real counter to a bounce-back. But who bothers to cook a grenade when rolling it down a basement stairwell? Deep detonation is more effective, so they had simply chucked them. Se-gun had sprinted forward without hesitation, flung them all back out, and this was the result.
He stepped into the blood-soaked first floor, shield raised, and walked slowly toward the entrance.
BANG! BANG!
Sniper fire came at once. The ballistic shield existed for exactly that. Se-gun blocked the rounds with casual ease and leveled his pistol at the rooftops. Range about a hundred fifty meters—tight for a handgun, but not for him.
“Kyahaha!”
The same man who had baited him with illusions earlier reappeared, combat hammer raised, and charged.
“What the hell is this?”
Se-gun swung the muzzle toward him and fired, but a flash erupted and the bullet vaporized in front of the man’s face. A veil of metal vapor swirled around him; even the round could not pierce it.
Startled, Se-gun hurled the ballistic shield and leaped backward.
CRACKLE-ZZZT!
Electric sparks flared and light exploded. The shield, however, was not pure metal; it slammed into the man’s gut and stayed solid.
“Charge Barrier?”
Se-gun recognized the magic at once. Rare and nasty. A Charge Barrier strong enough to vaporize bullets would be lethal to flesh. Ordinary humans would die instantly; even lycanthropes or vampires would be in serious trouble. For Se-gun, whose regeneration was still weak, it was especially deadly. Full-body burns and nerve damage would put him down for good—he simply could not regenerate from that.
This had to be the bastard who had melted the door. No one carries an acetylene torch around, but a Charge Barrier could soften steel, after which shaped charges did the rest exactly as Se-gun had outlined.
“Kahahahaha!”
The man vomited gastric juice from the shield strike yet still came laughing, hammer swinging. With a Charge Barrier he had no need for a hammer—only a madman would bother. Se-gun kicked a concrete block off the floor in disgust.
“I get a little banged up and suddenly I look easy, is that it?!”
The massive block flew. The man failed to dodge and took it full in the face. Skull cracked, blood sprayed, and he toppled. Charge Barrier was high-tier magic, yet the fool had walked straight into something this basic. Definitely insane. Se-gun confirmed the kill and hauled the corpse up by the collar.
“Aaaaagh!”
Chaos already ruled the surrounding houses and shops; people fled in every direction. Snipers on nearby rooftops opened fire the moment Se-gun appeared. He sidestepped, using the body as a makeshift shield. Luckily the man had worn body armor—perfect bunker material.
“Hmph.”
He started climbing the alley wall toward the rooftops and spotted tripwires strung overhead. Seo Rin had scaled these same walls yesterday; the enemy had known and sealed the route with booby traps in advance.
“Heh.”
Se-gun hurled the corpse skyward with everything he had. The body shot four stories up, snagged the wires, and triggered the charges. The building’s outer wall shredded into rubble.
“Over there!”
The snipers’ attention snapped toward the blast. That same instant Han Se-gun burst from the alley.
“What?!”
He threw himself into a forward roll and fired at the rooftop gunmen while spinning. Ridiculous. Hitting anything while rolling was pure Hong-Kong-movie nonsense.
Yet one sniper’s forehead bloomed red and he toppled backward. Every remaining shooter froze in shock.
“That’s impossible!”
While they scrambled to reacquire him, Se-gun rolled again and vanished back into the alley.
“Damn it!”
The moment he was under cover he ran straight up the wall. Plenty of tripwires still remained, but the corpse had already cleared enough of them that escape was possible.
He flung himself through the remaining wires, slipped free, and landed on the railing above.
“Kh…”
Perhaps because he had detonated the traps and attacked from the alley first, the enemy still could not decide whether this was another feint or a real rooftop assault. When they finally saw Se-gun standing on the roof they panicked.
“Hmm.”
Se-gun clicked his tongue at the mortar emplacement on the building. Absolute lunatics—firing mortars in the middle of a city. Arjuna and the neighboring structures had paid the price. Se-gun had long accepted that civilians might die in his war, but watching these men attack them without a second thought still made his blood boil.
“Shit!”
Several of them poured fire at him.
Whoosh!
Se-gun dropped into an extreme crouch and slid, letting the rounds pass overhead. He came to a stop with his back against a brick chimney. Small cover, but positioned so that every angle of fire was blocked.
“Shoot him!”
They kept firing simply to pin him behind the chimney. A few even yanked grenades from their harnesses. Pin him with bullets, finish him with grenades. Even Han Se-gun was down an arm; he could never handle this many alone. That was their thinking.
Their numbers, however, had already been cut in half.
Se-gun stepped lightly to the side and tossed a length of Detonating Cord fitted with wireless plugs into the air. The cord uncoiled mid-flight and flew like a living thing, draping itself over the snipers still busy suppressing him.
“What?!”
While they stared in confusion the cord wrapped their arms and throats. They knew exactly what it was and clawed at it in panic. Tungsten wire coated in C-4 plastic explosive does not break under ordinary strength.
“Aaaagh!”
Se-gun thumbed the remote on his shoulder in the correct sequence. Wireless detonators fired; the Detonating Cord erupted. Arms sheared off, necks severed, blood fountained in every direction. The rooftop looked like a trench after a massacre.
“Damn it! This is a demon!”
It felt like sleepwalking through a nightmare. They had possessed overwhelming firepower and numbers. The enemy had been trapped in their own basement, praying for police rescue. In a single breath everything had inverted. The remaining soldiers fell back in terror—then Han Se-gun burst through the smoke.
Shhk!
A casual sweep of his hand split skin and flesh and snapped cervical vertebrae. Bodies spun like tops through the air, hit the ground, and kept spinning. Guns cleared holsters in frantic spasms only for Se-gun’s own weapon to bark first. Soldiers dropped like extras in a western; the sight raised the hair on every neck.
Before long only one boy remained—the mortar crewman. He shook violently, staring at Han Se-gun.
“You’re the mortar man?”
Se-gun walked toward the survivor. The soldier was Cambodian, barely into his mid-teens; the pistol in his hand trembled wildly. No mage, just a Black Network mercenary who had drifted from job to job until Sa Jun hired him. Bad luck.
Se-gun gave a short laugh and flicked his hand.
Crack!
The boy’s arm snapped under impossible force. Even terrified, he had tried to pull the trigger. Se-gun, half-vampire already, read the twitch of muscle before the finger moved.
“We’ll keep this one alive for interrogation. Show me where the cars are!”
Seo Rin’s motorcycle was almost certainly booby-trapped by now. Se-gun needed the vehicles these men had arrived in if they were going to leave the area. Police had fallen back out of the kill zone, but a SWAT unit would arrive any minute. Failure to escape before then meant real trouble. The boy understood enough; he nodded frantically and kept repeating, “Don’t kill me!” Se-gun scooped him up and headed for the stairs.
“Total wipeout.”
Sa Jun listened to the terse report over the phone and found himself speechless. He had poured in what he considered an excessive amount of force, and every last man had been erased. Worse, Han Se-gun and Kim Seong-hui had simply walked out and vanished. They had slipped the police cordon as if it were not there; spiritual binding magic had to be involved.
Kim Seong-hui’s handiwork, no doubt. He had known she was a formidable mage, but he had never imagined the outcome would look like this.
“So… what was that?”
Giovanni Vantero stubbed out his cigar and regarded Sa Jun on the opposite sofa. Of course. The man had clearly overheard the entire call yet still asked with perfect calm. With the card that had kept Han Se-gun pinned now gone, Sa Jun narrowed his eyes at Giovanni.
“Han Se-gun is wounded and can’t use his full strength. The nuisance Argon has already fled the country. This looks like your chance to step in.”
The massive vampire’s face twisted with displeasure. Sa Jun had never been a simple information broker; he had always moved with a clear agenda. Now that the plan was unraveling he was suddenly sidling up with sweet talk?
“Listen carefully. It might be a chance, yes. But you don’t think I’ve forgotten everything you’ve done so far, do you? Is this really a chance at all?”
“You know what an information merchant is. This is just risk management, isn’t it?”
Sa Jun answered without a flicker of concern.
He was in deep trouble. Giovanni could decide to punish him for past unreliability on the spot. Han Se-gun could recover and come hunting. And the mage organization behind him would want answers for the impulsive decision that had failed to seize Seoul and instead destroyed their own forces.
Yet even under that pressure Sa Jun stayed composed. That much, at least, deserved respect.
“No.”
Giovanni suddenly stood and reached for him. A vampire’s hand could tear flesh with nothing more than a casual grip. Sa Jun did not flinch. Giovanni seized his face with both hands and stared into the narrow eyes. Sa Jun remained perfectly calm.
“Corpse eyes.”
That was Giovanni’s verdict. Cold, empty of every emotion—eyes rarely seen even among vampires whose lives had been utterly ruined.
“Is that so? Hahaha.”
Sa Jun brushed it off with a laugh. Only then did Giovanni release his face.